Christmas with the Strongholds
by Isabeau1
Summary: A look at how the senior Strongholds and Warren adjust to each other after Royal Pain’s attack.
1. An Invitation and a Guitar Lesson

Edited 4/17/09. No major changes, I just cleaned up the grammar and formatting.

**Ch 1: An Invitation and a Guitar Lesson**

"Hey Warren, you're coming to our Christmas party, right?" Will sat himself down on the school steps next to his best friend.

Warren looked up from his book, a bit startled by Will's sudden appearance, particularly because he had been purposely ignoring all background noise in the hopes of blocking out Ethan and Zack, who were sitting on the steps behind him complaining about something Coach Boomer had done. It had only been a few months since they had stopped Royal Pain, and he and Will had gone from being enemies, to not-enemies, to friends, and Warren still wasn't used to Will and his friends always being everywhere he was.

"When is it?" Warren closed his book, marking the page with his finger.

"Christmas Eve. It starts around five," Will could already tell Warren was going to say no.

It wasn't really a surprise. Warren just wasn't a social person, and Will didn't see any reason why he should have to be, but he thought he would ask anyway. Their annual Christmas party, while fun for the adults, usually didn't have enough kids his age for Will's liking.

"I'm working," Warren shook his head, then reached up absently to flick his hair behind his ear when it fell in his face.

"On Christmas Eve?" Zack looked astonished.

"I always work Christmas Eve," Warren shrugged. "We don't celebrate it, and Mom's never home for it, so there's no reason for me not to."

"Well, now you have a reason," Layla said matter-of-factly as she and Magenta joined the group.

"Or," said Warren, ignoring Layla kissing Will, then settling herself in his lap. "I can work, and one of the waiters who actually has a family they want to spend time with can get the day off," Warren opened his book again. "Anyway, I get time and a half for Christmas Eve."

"Sweet," Magenta sat herself down on Warren's other side. "You should dye your hair green for Christmas," she separated out the two red strands from the rest of his hair.

"I don't dye my hair," Warren signed and went back to reading.

"That is so unfair," Magenta scowled.

* * *

"Zack!"

Zack jumped and pressed his hand to the strings of his guitar, stopping the noise abruptly. Josie was not surprised. Zack's parents had bought him a guitar, partly to humor his latest phase and partly in hopes of him actually learning a useful skill. Thus far, all he had succeeded in doing was annoying people. He only knew one cord, and his guitar was ridiculously out of tune.

Josie had been watching for the last twenty minutes from the den across the hall as Warren's shoulders inched up higher and higher, agitated with the noise Zack was making. She was not at all surprised when he turned and glared at him.

The kids were sitting in the living room, supposedly doing homework, although Warren and Ethan seemed to be the only ones actually working. Her oh-so-studious son was sprawled on the couch, bending and unbending the prongs of a fork, which Josie wasn't all that sure she was happy about. Layla and Magenta were in the middle of a discussion over the social status of female super heroes, which as far as Josie could tell, had nothing to do with the chemistry homework Warren and Ethan were trying to wade through. Zack was sitting on the floor trying to convince everyone the noise he was making was music. Josie was about ready to take the guitar from him herself.

"Give," Warren held his hand out for the guitar.

Zack was understandably hesitant. Will, on the other hand, was about to break down into hysterics.

"Now."

The glare did Zack in, and fearing for his own safety more than that of his guitar, he handed it over. Josie had to admit, she thought the guitar was toast. Warren settled the instrument on his lap as if he had been handling it all his life and proceeded to tune it in a little under a minute and a half.

"Keep it in tune," he handed it back to Zack who had relaxed visibly when he realized Warren wasn't going to incinerate anything. "You're bad enough as it is. And learn another cord."

"Which one?" Zack ran his fingers over the strings, and it was much less grating.

"I don't care," Warren went back to his homework.

Will burst out laughing, and Josie returned to her paperwork.

Having Warren dragged into their lives had left Josie in a constant state of reevaluation. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he did something unexpected, and she had to rearrange the picture she had of him in her head. She had had to scrap the notion of him being short tempered, scrap the notion of him being a bully, and she had even had to scrap the notion of him being a loner. He was, without a doubt, extremely guarded when it came to his private life, but he seemed to enjoy company of the right kind.

So Warren Peace was nothing Josie would have ever expected him to be, and she was feeling him out as they went. Sometimes, it still startled her to see Barry Battle's son sitting in her house and laughing with her own baby boy, but judging by how close he and Will had gotten in only a few months, she was going to have to get used to it. Steve was still struggling with it. He and Warren had a truce of sorts going at the moment, where they just tried to stay out of each other's way. Warren still had some issues with Steve. In fact, he still had some issues with both of them, but at least he made an effort to be polite, and for now that was enough.

"Ethan, aren't you suppose to be home by six?" Will asked.

Ethan glanced at his watch. "Oh shoot. I have to go," he started throwing books into his backpack. "Tell me if you figure out number seven."

"Uh-huh," Warren didn't sound like he expected to.

Within fifteen minutes everyone had trickled home, leaving just Will and Warren in the living room. Warren leaned back against the couch Will was laying on and stretched his arms over his head.

"You should come by after you get off," Will said randomly.

"I won't be off until nearly eleven," Warren, amazingly enough, followed.

"That's alright. Even if most people have gone home, we'll still be awake cleaning up so we don't have to on Christmas Day," Will nudged Warren lazily with his knee. "I'll save you some cake."

"Like I ever leave work hungry," Warren snorted.

The truth was, he didn't want to go. A party like this would mostly be superheroes, and Warren had no desire to spend the whole evening with everyone knowing who his parents were, whispering behind his back, and being superficially polite to him, if they even bothered with that much. He didn't have the patience for it. He'd rather spent the night at the Paper Lantern with people who actually liked him.

"I'll see," he said, and even as he said it, he knew he was going to end up knocking on

Will's front door at 11:30 at night, on Christmas Eve, so he could help clean up after someone else's party.

The funny thing was, it didn't bother him all that much.

"Great," Will grinned at him, already knowing he would be there. "I'll save you some of those little sandwich things Mom makes too. They're really good."

Warren sighed and hit Will in the face with a pillow, just so he wouldn't have to look at his knowing smirk.


	2. One on One

**Ch 2: One on One**

"…so then Medulla asked Zack if he even knew what a phosphorescent pigment was," Will dribbled the basketball on his icy driveway, trying to figure out which way to break around Warren.

Warren was stronger on his right side, but he knew Will knew that, and he would expect him to go left. The chances of Will getting around him were equally abysmal no matter what direction he went.

"You're kidding," Warren grinned, his hair, for once, kept out of his face by the snow hat he had pulled down over his ears.

"No," Will went left. "Zack said it was a new alternative rock band, and Medulla made him drink the stuff."

Warren slapped the ball from Will's hands and spun taking the shot from where he was standing. The ball went cleanly through the hoop hung above the garage door.

"So now Zack is glowing purple," Warren rubbed his gloved hands together while Will went to retrieve the ball.

"Magenta thinks it's a great look for him," Will said, bringing the ball back to their designated half court.

"She would," Warren laughed. "So, is it going to wear off?"

"The nurse thinks so," Will made a fast break and managed to get around Warren this time. "She's not sure exactly how long it will take though."

"We should get him some purple hair dye," Warren tried to snatch the ball away, but Will took the shot and made it off the back board. "Then he wouldn't clash with himself so badly."

"That'd be great," Will caught the ball and passed it to Warren. "Then he and Magenta would match for the winter formal."

Warren laughed again, then sneezed.

"You cold?" Will cocked his head to the side, studying Warren.

It was still early, but it had gotten dark while they were playing, and the temperature was dropping quickly.

"I'm never warm," Warren dribbled the ball absently.

"You're kidding," Will frowned at him, momentarily forgetting the game.

"My normal temperature is 206.7," Warren took advantage of Will's distraction to get by him and make an easy lay-up. "Unless I'm powered up, it always feels cold to me."

"Well that sucks," Will caught the ball when Warren passed it to him.

"On the grand scale of things that suck, it's pretty minor," Warren shrugged.

"If you say so," Will took a shot from the middle of the driveway and missed.

Warren caught the rebound and put it through the hoop easily.

* * *

"Any carnage yet?"

Steve jumped guiltily at the sound of his wife's voice and let the curtain fall closed, turning on the couch to face her.

"No, not yet," he said, looking up at Josie, who had a smear of spaghetti sauce on her cheek. "Will is losing though."

"Will always looses at basketball," Josie shrugged. "Warren is better at it."

"I guess," Steve looked over his shoulder and back out the window.

Josie sighed and sat on the sofa next to him. "Warren Peace is not his father," she reached up to play with the hair at the nap of Steve's neck.

"I know," Steve made a face at her; that was exactly what Will kept telling him. "He's just so much like him."

"No, he's not," Josie flicked Steve's ear in annoyance. "He looks like him, but the similarities end there."

"He has his powers," Steve watched Will slip on the icy pavement and obviously uninjured, laugh.

Warren just shook his head and pulled him to his feet.

"Nice to know you've been paying such close attention," Josie said dryly.

Steve blinked and turned to look at her.

"Warren doesn't have his father's powers," Josie shook her head. "Barry is a pyrotech. Warren is a pyrokinetic."

Steve frowned at the subtle difference between a pyrotech, someone who created fire, and a pyrokinetic, someone who controlled fire. "He's a pyrotech too."

"So he has his father's powers and then some," Josie conceded. "That doesn't mean he'll use them the same way."

Will slipped again, and Warren dropped the ball to catch him.

"Our son is a klutz," Steve announced.

"I know," Josie kissed him on the cheek, accepting the change of topic. "He gets it from you."

"Luckily, he got my invulnerability too," Steve stretched an arm around her shoulders.

"Uh-huh," Josie stood up. "Why don't you go call the boys in? Dinner is ready."

"Warren's staying?" not that that was at all unusual, but he wished people would tell him these things.

"I would assume so," Josie shrugged. "I haven't asked."

"I'll ask," Steve said dutifully, then reached out and grabbed Josie by the apron strings, pulling her back to him. "You have spaghetti sauce on your face."

He proceeded to kiss it off her cheek.

"Thank you," she gave him a quick kiss in return. "Now go get the boys before Will dents our driveway."

Steve shivered at the cold blast of air when he opened the door. This was not the sort of weather he would have chosen for playing basketball in.

"Dinner," he called loudly enough to be heard over the bouncing ball and the boys talking.

They both broke off at once, and Will made a line for the door, but Warren hesitated.

"You want to stay for dinner Warren?" Steve asked.

"Come on Wren," Will seemed to sense Warren's hesitation even without turning. "It's spaghetti night."

As if that would make any difference, Steve thought dryly. Not only did Warren eat less than any teenager Steve had ever met, he was one of the least picky eaters Steve had ever known.

"Yeah, thanks," Warren said in answer to Steve's question, pretending to ignore Will as he always did when he called him "Wren."

Steve held the door open for both boys, then shut it safely behind them.


	3. Christmas Eve

Dialog in italics is in Mandarin, which I don't speak at all, but Warren does.

**Ch 3: Christmas Eve**

"_Warren spill on table two!_" Mr. Yang called into the kitchen in Mandarin.

Warren left off washing the endless pile of dishes and snapped up a towel on his way out. Table two had been a problem all night, from the newly-weds who couldn't keep their hands off each other long enough to order, to the current occupants, a couple with out-of-town relatives visiting, who were letting their three bratty children run amuck.

"_Can't you scare them into behaving?_" Mrs. Yang asked as he walked by. "_Just a few sparks?_"

"_Not unless you want to add a lawsuit to your Christmas list,_" Warren replied dryly.

"_Maybe next year,_" Mrs. Yang deadpanned.

One of the kids had knocked over a pot of tea, and Ushi, the table's very frazzled waitress, was trying to mop it up with napkins, while the mother yelled at the boy who had spilt it, and he proceeded to look not very sorry at all and an awful lot like he would do it again if given a chance.

"_I've got it,_" Warren touched Ushi's shoulder gently. "_Why don't you go get them more napkins and silverware._"

"_Thanks_," Ushi smiled gratefully and made a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"You speak Chinese?" the father asked, not having understood a word of what Warren had just said.

"Yeah," Warren made quick work of wiping down the table.

"Are you taking it in school?" the mother asked.

"No," Warren collected the soggy napkins and dripping silverware.

Everyone at the table waited for an explanation of why the tattooed white kid with the red streaked hair spoke Mandarin, but Warren didn't give them one. It was sort of funny to have someone stare at him like he was an abnormality of nature for something as mundane as speaking a foreign language. Usually, stares like that were connected with people knowing who his parents were.

Warren left the table to speculate and returned to the kitchen and the never ending pile of dishes. Christmas Eve at the Paper Lantern was always a mad house, but Warren would rather be there, then sitting at home alone with his mother out of town or being aggravated at the Stronghold Christmas party.

Warren had moved to China with his parents at the age of three and moved back to the States with his mother at the age of thirteen. In China, he had attended an English speaking school, and they had mostly spoken English at home, but they hadn't lived in an English speaking neighborhood, and none of Warren's friends outside of school had spoken English. The culture shock of moving back to the States had not been kind to him. The Yangs, who owned the Paper Lantern, had been a welcome piece of home.

Almost everyone who worked at the Paper Lantern was related somehow to the Yangs. Even before he had been old enough to actually work there, he used to sit in the kitchen, munching on bowls of rice pressed on him by Mrs. Yang's sister, who was the cook, and entertaining the Yang's oldest son, who was six years younger than him. He liked being around a family who liked him, even if it wasn't his own family.

Warren didn't have to work. His mother easily made enough with her consulting business for both of them to live comfortably, but being there kept him sane.

"_Warren table two again!_"

Even in the midst of madness.

* * *

"So, is that Boomer's fourth or fifth cocktail?" Magenta asked from her seat to Will's right.

"I think it's his sixth," Ethan said from Will's left.

"And like the eighth time he's told that story about saving Pokipsy," Zack added from Magenta's far side.

"Maybe it's the only town he ever saved," Magenta speculated.

The four teenagers were silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. In the noisy crowded room, no one noticed.

As far a Christmas parties went, this one was turning out to be pretty bearable. Layla had abandoned Will like she did every year to help her mother raise the environmental awareness of the guests, but the rest of his friends had stuck with him, and they were managing to entertain each other fairly well, usually at the expense of the adults, quite a few of whom were becoming a little tipsy.

Will was still missing Warren though. He just knew Warren would have had something fascinating, or maybe facetious, to say about how the size of the meteor and the number of people Boomer had saved kept changing. Plus, Warren had great stories about Boomer and Medulla, since the Paper Lantern was one of their favorite spots to bring dates.

He couldn't really blame him though. Warren didn't like being around people who didn't like him, and in the superhero community, the adults could be just as bad, if not worse, than the kids when it came to thinking they knew everything about a person at a glance. Unfortunately, they all knew who Warren's father was. It bothered Warren to have everyone staring at him and whispering about him behind his back.

It was probably a good thing that he wasn't there. If he had been, he would have retreated to the kitchen to help Will's mom with the food, or been hiding up in Will's room reading. Will still missed him though.

"Some people are just so unaware of the impact they have on the delicate balance of nature," Layla stopped in front of them, slightly miffed, then she shrugged and smiled. "Come dance with me," she said to her boyfriend, indicating the room across the hall, where the furniture had been pushed out of the way and people were dancing to loud Christmas music.

Will tugged Layla forward and kissed her. "I don't dance," he said, as if she hadn't known that since they were two.

"I know, but I just keep hoping one day you'll learn," Layla smiled.

And Will missed Warren twice over, because Layla really liked dancing, and Will really hated it, but Warren would have danced with Layla if they had both asked him.

"I'll dance with you Layla," Ethan offered shyly, even though he couldn't really dance.

"That would be wonderful Ethan," Layla grinned at him, and they abandoned the group for the dance floor.

* * *

Warren hesitated at Will's front door. It was nearly 11:45, and while it was obvious there were people still awake in the house, Warren wasn't sure any of them except Will were going to want him underfoot while they were cleaning up.

He knocked anyway. It was nothing new to him being where he wasn't wanted, and despite the fact that he had never actually said he would come, Will was expecting him.

"You missed Boomer drunk off his ass," Will said in way of greeting when he opened the door.

Warren snorted and was instantly glad to be there.

"Warren!" Layla appeared from somewhere down the hall and flung herself at Warren, hugging him hard. "Happy Holidays!"

Will grabbed Warren's arm, stopping him from slipping on the icy front step.

"Merry Christmas, Layla," Warren returned the hug one armed, and stepped out of the snowy night so Will could shut the door.

"You have to meet my mom," Layla informed him as he unlaced his wet boots and hung his jacket on the rack near the door.

Warren raised an eyebrow at Will, who shrugged in return, having no more idea than him why he had to meet Layla's mom.

After Warren had his boots off, Layla dragged him into the living room where her mother was helping to clean up. Will followed, looking highly amused, because Layla was quite possibly the only person Warren allowed to drag him around by the hand.

"Mom, this is Warren Peace," Layla gave Warren a little push towards her. "Warren, this is my mom Natalie."

Natalie had been a friend of Josie Stronghold's long before her last name had been Stronghold, and she had seen as much of Will growing up as the Strongholds had seen of Layla, and she certainly knew who Warren Peace was.

"It's wonderful to meet you Warren," Natalie put down the bag she had been collecting trash in, and held her hand out to him. "Layla's told me so much about you."

Usually, when people said that to Warren there was an undercurrent to it, the implication that what they had heard hadn't been good, and even if it was so subtle that they themselves didn't pick up on it, Warren always did. But it just wasn't there with Natalie.

"It's nice to meet you," Warren shook her hand.

"Do you want a dog?" Natalie asked.

"Mom," Layla laughed and rolled her eyes.

Her mother was forever bringing home animals from the shelters she volunteered at, then trying to foist them off on other people, not so much because she didn't want them, as that she believed everyone needed more animals in their lives.

"A dog?" Warren wasn't sure he had heard her right.

"Yes, a dog," Natalie confirmed. "I just took the sweetest dog home from the shelter yesterday. He's not much to look at, but he'll make a wonderful companion, and you look like a dog person."

"I do like dogs," Warren nodded. "But I don't have time to take care of one."

"Which tells me you'll be a wonderfully responsible owner if you ever get one," Natalie smiled, and despite the fact that she and Layla didn't look much alike, her smile reminded Warren of Layla's. "How about a cat?"

Layla giggled and Will laughed, because that was exactly how his mother had gotten her cat.

"I don't care much for cats," Warren shook his head. "I like birds, but I don't have time for that either."

"Birds," Natalie said thoughtfully. "I'll have to think about that."

"Now you're in trouble," said Layla softly.

"Warren is that you?" Josie called from the kitchen. "You better not be in there cleaning. Come into the kitchen. There's cake left and the cider is still hot."

Will pushed Warren towards the kitchen, then went back to helping Layla and her mother clean up. Josie was in the kitchen working on a stack of dishes that rivaled the one at the Paper Lantern.

"You just spent all night cleaning up after other people. Sit down and eat," Josie paused in her dish washing to ladle up a cup of cider and set a large piece of cake on the table for him.

"They do feed me down at the Lantern you know," Warren sat down, taking a sip of the cider without any fear of burning his tongue, which was something he had never done in his life.

"I kind of got that impression," Josie went back to washing dishes. "But you still don't eat enough."

"You and Zan ought to get together," Warren grumbled. "You'd get along really well."

"Who's Zan?" Josie asked without turning.

"She's the cook at the Lantern," Warren debated scraping the icing off the cake. He didn't have much of a sweet tooth, and there was a lot of icing. "She's always trying to feed me too."

"Well, then we probably would get along," Josie agreed. "You'll have to introduce me."

"Just tell her you try to feed me," he decided to leave the icing on. "She'll be sympathetic. She's been trying to make me eat my weight daily for years."

"Years, huh?" Josie glanced at him over her shoulder. "How exactly does that work? Last time I checked you were only sixteen. Legally, you really should have only been working there five or six months," Josie didn't know when Warren's birthday was, but she was guessing he was closer to fifteen then seventeen.

"More like two months," Warren took a bite of the cake and was surprised to find it not overwhelmingly sweet. "But I've been hanging out there after school since jr. high, so it's definitely years."

"Huh," Josie turned back to the dishes. "Most kids at that age are playing video games after school."

"Video games are boring," Warren replied. "And kids who play them incessantly turn out like Zack. This is really good cake."

"Thank you. It's my grandmother's recipe," Josie said. "So to avoid turning out like Zack, you decided to hang out at a Chinese restaurant?"

Warren briefly contemplated having a grandmother who baked. He had one grandmother who was dead and another who treated him like Satan's spawn. Actually, she treated him the way she wanted to treat his father. Luckily, Barry Battle was locked safely out of her reach in a maximum security jail. Warren didn't think either of his grandmothers had ever baked though.

"It's a culture thing," Warren said, licking frosting off his fork.

"As in wanting more of, or being familiar with?" Josie knew Warren had lived in China for a while, but she didn't know how old he had been or for how long he had lived there.

"Being familiar with," Warren finished off the last of his cider. "We lived there until I was thirteen."

"So you moved back to the states just in time for junior high," Josie frowned. "That sounds like an unpleasant time to move."

"It sucked," Warren said shortly, and dumped his dishes in the sink.

Josie was intensely curious about just what Warren meant by that statement, but she also sensed it was time to change the subject. Warren rarely talked about himself, and she had already learned better than to push. He told what he wanted, to who he wanted, when he was ready, and not before.

"Magenta said you don't dye your hair," Warren was almost as tall as she was, which put the red streaks at right about her eye level and made it an easy change of subject.

"Yeah," Warren snorted. "She's very bitter over it."


	4. A Walk in the Woods

**Ch 4: A Walk in the Woods**

Warren watched his breath frost in the cold night air as he walked home. Will's parents had tried to give him a ride, but he only lived in the next neighborhood over, and it was already 1:30 in the morning. Plus, it was snowing again, and despite not being fond of snow, he felt safer walking through it then driving.

All in all it had been a good Christmas Eve, which surprised Warren, because he generally found the whole Christmas season a little depressing. Aside from his parents, who were more or less permanently unavailable, Warren only had three other relatives, and the farther they stayed away from him the better, but it still got to him this time of year seeing everyone with their families. It reminded him of just how alone he had been since leaving China.

This year it hadn't gotten to him so much though. It probably had something to do with Zack calling him two or three times a day with guitar questions, then showing up on his doorstep when he broke his strings and couldn't figure out how to replace them, and Ethan, who kept calling him about the extra credit in English, despite the fact that Warren wasn't doing the extra credit in English, and Layla dragging him Christmas shopping with her, and Magenta coming with him to the food bank he volunteered at. And then there was Will, who was always just… there. He was in and out of Warren's house, he dragged Warren in and out of his house, and he showed up on Warren's lunch break at work, because Layla was helping her mother at the animal shelter, and Will was board.

Warren was starting to get used to having friends around again. He instinctively knew that that was risky. Having friends meant you could lose them, meant you could be abandoned, meant you could be hurt, and given the people involved and who they were related to, that was a definite possibility. It had been a surprise to him that the Commander and Jetstream had even tolerated him, and he didn't expect them to ever like him. Although, the way things were going, he could be wrong. He suspected having friends like Will was worth the risk, but he still had his doubts. He needed to talk to his dad about it, or write his dad about it anyway. He never actually talked to his dad, but he wrote him almost every week. He tended to have intelligent and useful things to say when it came to this sort of thing.

Warren paused on the bridge that ran between his neighborhood and Will's. There was a green belt and a creek that separated the two neighborhoods. Warren leaned over the railing and looked down at the water rushing under the bridge. All the snow had it running high.

He turned to go, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of red in the trees along the creek. He only caught a glimpse of it, but he knew what it was instantly.

He had been eight. Despite the fact that they lived in China, his mother was still based in San Francisco as a superhero, so his dad stayed home with him most of the time. By the time he had turned eight though, his dad had been starting to get into the super-villain thing, and he and Warren's mother were fighting a lot, even though Warren's mother hadn't known what he was up to.

There had been a miscommunication over who was suppose to pick him up from school. All Warren knew as he sat on the front steps of the empty building was that they weren't there, and they didn't seem to be coming. Plus it was snowing. They lived far enough south that it hardly ever snowed. This was the first year since they moved to China that it had. Warren didn't like it. It was cold and wet, and it left puddles everywhere and soaked through his socks, and he hated soggy socks.

And now, he was stuck sitting out in it, because his parents had forgotten him. He was so angry he decided to leave on his own. He would go to his best friend Liang's house. Liang didn't go to his school, but Warren stayed with his family when his dad wasn't home. Lately, it seemed like he had been practically living there. Liang's family liked him, and they would never forget him. Plus, he had walked to Liang's house from his school with his dad before. It wasn't that far.

It was, however, late in the afternoon and already getting dark when he set out. It got dark quickly and started snowing harder, and despite Warren being so sure he knew the way, he got lost. He was cold and tired and all alone and eight. He was terrified.

He also didn't have a clue what hypothermia was. He didn't know he needed to keep moving, he didn't know he needed to stay awake. He knew he was tired and cold, so he sat down to rest out of the wind at the base of a tree, and he fell asleep.

He woke to singing. It was like nothing he had ever heard before. It was almost like a person's voice, and almost like a bird's, but not quite like either. He dragged his eyes open to find a bird perched on the roots of the tree he was curled against. The bird was as red as any fire and its long tail seemed to burn.

Warren, who had been fire proof all his life, had no fear of fire at all, and he reached out to touch the tail with cold hands. It was warm like the fire his dad called up. This was the phoenix that Liang's grandfather had told him about. He was sure of it.

The bird sung a single clear note, then took off, flying close to the ground. Warren stumbled to his feet and followed. The bright plumage glowed in the dark and the snow melted under the bird's path, making it easier for Warren to follow.

Then suddenly it was gone, and he was alone again. He had barely had time to grasp the bird's disappearance, when he was scooped up by a pair of strong arms.

"Warren! Thank God!" his dad held him close and powered up, blanketing him in warm fire.

Warren wrapped his arms and legs around him and held tight, so happy to see him that he forgave him for forgetting him in the first place.

His parents would insist later that the bird had been an unconscious manifestation of his powers, but Warren always believed he had seen a real phoenix.

Now, he follows the same bird without a second thought. Through the icy trees, and sliding down the frozen slope of the creek, until the bird vanished, and the flame like crackle of its wings was replaced by a child crying.

There was a girl of perhaps six standing on the edge of the creek in muddy flannel pajamas sobbing. She jumped when she spotted Warren, startled by his sudden appearance.

"What's wrong?" Warren knelt down in front of the frightened child.

"My sister…" she sobbed and pointed out towards the swollen creek.

Warren turned his head to look, and in the light reflecting off the snow, he could see a little figure clinging to the end of a tree trunk that was laying half submerged in the creek.

"We were looking for Santa…" the girl standing in front of him sniffled.

Warren glance up the slope of the creek bed, spotting the light of a house through the trees.

"Is that your house?" he asked, pointing.

The child nodded.

"I need you to listen to me, okay?" Warren put his hands firmly on the little girl's shoulders. "I'm going to stay here and try to help your sister. I want you to climb back up to your house and tell your parents what's happened. Tell them to call 911. Can you do that?"

The child nodded, and Warren sent her scrambling up the slope, then turned back to her sister. The creek was running fast and deep, and the girl's head kept slipping under, then popping up again. Warren couldn't wait for a rescue team to get there. If the girl lost her grip, they would never find her in the dark. He was going to have to try to reach her himself.

Unfortunately, his powers weren't going to help him. In extreme cold his body would burn up huge amounts of energy trying to maintain his internal temperature, and it would wear him out quickly.

Warren hated winter.

He waded out into the water, bracing one hand against the tree trunk to steady himself. By the time he reached the girl, the water was past his waist, and he was having trouble keeping his feet under him. He reached out and grabbed the back of the child's nightshirt and hauled her to him. With a hiccupping sob and a cough, she wrapped her arms and legs around Warren, just in time for him to slip on the uneven creek bed.

Immediately, his feet were swept out from under him, and he went under. He kept a tight hold on the girl as the current swept them under the tree trunk and downstream. As soon as they were clear of the trunk, Warren kicked them both to the surface. Warren didn't have any inborn dislike of water, in fact he was a strong swimmer, but the cold was already starting to get to him.

The currant was too strong for Warren to fight, but he managed to keep both their heads above water until they reached the bridge and he could grab onto the edge of the huge tunnel that went under it. He pulled himself along the base until the water was shallow enough to get his feet under him and then stumbled up the bank, collapsing down on the snowy ground, holding the girl against his chest. As cold as he was, he probably still felt warm to her. He was pretty sure he would have to be dead for his temperature to drop down to a normal 98.6 degrees.

Warren heard sirens in the distance and a few minutes later voices yelling. He shouted back, a little surprised he could manage even that much between his chattering teeth.


	5. Christmas Morning

**Ch 5: Christmas Morning**

Josie was sure that couldn't possibly be the phone ringing. She and Steve had just gotten settled into bed, and Steve was wrapped around her nice and warm, and they were almost asleep.

And that was the phone.

It wasn't even the emergency phone; it was the house phone. Of course if the house phone was ringing at 2:15AM, it probably was some sort of emergency.

Despite Steve's protest, Josie reached over and answered the phone on her nightstand.

"Hello?" she stifled a yawn.

Steve snuggled against her back, trying with some success to distract her.

"Warren?" Josie said in surprise at the voice on the other end of the line.

Steve was suddenly paying much more attention.

"What happened?" she sat up as she listened to the response. "Our kind of trouble?" There was a pause, then she relaxed visibly. "No, I'll be right there. Don't worry about it."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

"I don't know," Josie kicked off the blankets and started looking for reasonably clean clothes on their not so clean bedroom floor. "He just said there had been some trouble, and he needed a ride."

"But not our kind of trouble," Steve flipped the covers down to stop the heat from escaping.

"No. I could hear people talking in the background," Josie pulled on a pair of jeans she found under the bed. "I don't think he wanted to go into details with an audience. He's only a few blocks away. I'm going to go get him."

Josie found a sweatshirt that smelled clean and was probably Steve's, and decided to wear it anyway.

"Maybe I should come with you," Steve started to get out of bed.

"It's two blocks," Josie pushed him back into bed, and grabbed the car keys off his night stand. "By the time you get dressed, and tell Will we're going, and figure out if Will is going or not, and wait for Will to get dressed, I could be there. I'll call if I need you."

"Was that the phone?" Will appeared in the doorway of their bedroom in his pajamas.

"Warren needs a ride," Josie kissed his cheek as she walked by him.

"Why?" Will asked apprehensively.

"Ask your father," Josie called over her shoulder as she walked down the hall.

* * *

Warren was not hard to find. There was an ambulance and several police cars gathered in the street, along with the expected crowd of gawkers. Warren was leaning against the trunk of a patrol car wrapped in a police blanket, his hair limp and dripping. He was arguing stubbornly with a medic, and he kept shrugging her off when she tried to check him over.

Josie could tell intervention was going to be needed, although she wasn't sure if it would be for Warren or the medic. Warren was very pale, and his skin had a slight bluish tint to it. Josie suspected the medic had the right idea.

"Warren!" Josie called to him and watched his shoulders slump in relief.

A police officer waved her over, and she reminded herself that she was playing the part of the slightly confused best friend's mother and not the slightly confused superhero. She was going to have to be a little more subtle than just telling the emergency personnel what she wanted.

"You know him?" the medic asked.

"Yes," Josie leaned against the car beside Warren, their shoulders almost touching. She just didn't think Warren was comfortable enough with her for her to do anything else, although the mother in her wanted to tuck the blanket around him tighter. "He's my

son's best friend. We're keeping an eye on him while his mother is out of town." Not entirely true, but entirely true wasn't going to help anyone right now.

Much to her surprise, Warren leaned against her and let his head rest on her shoulder. She responded by wrapping an arm around him. She could feel small shutters wracking his whole body.

"I can't let them take my temperature," Warren whispered into her ear.

And suddenly everything made sense. Josie squeezed Warren's shoulder and felt him relax against her.

"Well, has he got something against medics?" the agitated woman asked. "Because he's real hypothermic, and Lord only knows what he broke getting dragged down the creek."

"Dragged down the creek?" Josie repeated, wondering just what Warren had been up to.

"Yeah," the medic's agitation faded slightly. "A girl fell into the creek, and he pulled her out. Look, I really think you should let me take him in. He's not looking good."

"I don't like hospitals," Warren said shortly.

Josie was hardly surprised by that. Warren didn't even like people he knew poking at him. Strangers were probably out of the question.

"You know what," Josie said in the manner of someone who was trying to find a solution that worked for everyone. "He's conscious, and he seems to be really coherent, so why don't I take him home with me. He can stay the night with us, we'll keep an eye on him, get him into a hot shower, get some hot food in him, and make sure he stays awake until his temperature is back up. If anything looks funny, we'll get him down to the ER."

The medic hesitated, then took in the stubborn set of Warren's face and nodded. "Alright. Just make sure you watch him."

"We will," Josie squeezed Warren's shoulders. "Thanks."

The medic nodded, still not entirely happy with the situation, but she let them go.

"Thanks for coming to get me," Warren huddled in the passenger's seat, ice crystals glittering in his hair. "If you take Rosehill up to Yellow Ridge you can get to my house without the police seeing."

Josie actually laughed.

"Sweetheart, you are so hypothermic it isn't even funny," she headed the car in the opposite direction. "You're coming home with me, you're taking a hot shower, I'm feeding you, then I'm letting Will keep you awake until I decide it's safe for you to sleep."

Warren looked at her in surprise, but he didn't disagree.

* * *

Will, not surprisingly, met them at the door.

"Are you alright?" he asked, curling an arm around Warren's back to steady him.

"Yeah," Warren leaned on his shoulder.

"Liar," Will frowned at him.

Warren didn't say anything, but Will could tell he agreed.

"Will, get him upstairs and into a hot shower and see if you can't find him some dry cloths," Josie instructed.

Josie watched the boys head up the stairs, then turned to Steve who was hovering in the living room doorway.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"A girl fell in the creek. Warren must have spotted her on his way home, and he pulled her out," Josie headed for the kitchen. "I keep saying that creek needs to be fenced off. It's dangerous."

"Warren can swim?" Steve asked, trailing after her.

Josie snorted. "Apparently," she filled the tea kettle and put it on the stove. "Although the wet and cold didn't do him any good."

"He is looking a little blue," Steve agreed, leaning against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

"The only reason he called at all was because the medics, being sane people, wouldn't let him leave by himself, and he couldn't let them actually take care of him, because his normal temperature is so high they would have known right away something was up," Josie poked around the fridge for something to heat up for Warren. "He didn't have anyone else to call," she snatched a Tupperware of rice out of the fridge. "You know, I'm very uncomfortable with his mother leaving him alone for extended periods of time. What if we had been away on a call?"

"Doesn't water… I don't know… extinguish him?" Steve was thinking of how much Baron Battle had hated water.

"Steve," Josie sometimes wondered if her husband heard a word she said.

"I'm sure he would have called someone else," Steve said placatingly.

"Like who?" Josie leveled her I-do-not-find-you-amusing-or-intelligent look at him.

That, Steve didn't have an answer to.

* * *

Josie peered through Will's half closed door, spotting both boys sitting cross-legged on Will's bed facing each other. Warren had a sub-zero sleeping bag pulled up over his head like a hood and wrapped around him. He was still too pale, but his skin had lost its blue tint, and he wasn't shivering anymore.

Still, Josie was glad it didn't look like he was going to be going to sleep anytime soon. He and Will were sitting close, heads bowed together so Will could catch what Warren was saying, and whatever he was saying, Will was listening as intently as Warren was telling. By the time they got through, chances were it would be safe for Warren to sleep.

Josie retreated to her own bedroom where Steve was getting ready for bed a second time. She joined him under the blankets, curling against his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"He really is insane you know," Steve said.

"Mmm," Josie murmured sleepily.

"I mean, in an icy river his powers are pretty much useless," Steve continued. "They were probably more of a hindrance then a help."

Josie laughed into the curve of his neck, then propped herself up on his chest. "That's why they call them heroes."

She kissed his nose, then snuggled down against him again.

Steve blinked and stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

"Yeah, I guess so."


	6. Christmas Day

**Ch 6: Christmas Day**

Warren woke warm.

And with Will's socks in his face. Luckily, they were clean socks. He had fallen asleep on Will's bed, and Will was sleeping next to him with his head near the footboard and an arm tossed over Warren's ankles. It was very tempting to stay exactly where he was. He was tired and comfortable, and if he went home he would have to make his own breakfast. Not that he didn't do that every morning.

It was Christmas morning though, and despite all the chaos of last night, Warren could pretty much guarantee there were presents under the tree in the living room. For a family like the Strongholds, Christmas really was a day to spend together. Even though he knew he could have stayed without any fuss being raised, Warren didn't want to interfere with that, and he could sleep in his own bed just as easily as here.

Will was a notoriously sound sleeper, and Warren had no trouble slipping out from under his loose grip. He rolled the sleeping bag up and went searching for the clothes he had forgotten last time he had spent the night. He let himself out the backdoor without waking anyone.

The morning was clear and cold, and the snow crunched under Warren's still slightly damp boots. There was no one out this early, and the streets were quiet for a change. That wouldn't last. By noon there would be throngs of kids out playing in the snow. Not a pastime Warren had ever enjoyed.

Warren paused on the bridge again, his eyes searching the trees, but there was nothing there. He had told Will last night about the phoenix, and Will had believed him. He always did. Believed him and believed in him, something Warren hadn't had in a long time.

Will's parents were still a bit of a mystery to him though. It was easy not to like them, particularly the Commander, just like it had been easy not to like Will initially. The spoiled, egotistical son of the world's greatest superheroes, who had had everything given to him, and felt he was entitled to that. Of course, that wasn't true. Will wasn't any more like that, then Warren was interested in picking fights and world domination.

And the world's greatest superheroes, the egomaniacal pair who thought they could do anything they wanted? Not so much.

Will's dad was dense, there was no way around it. He had gone who knew how many years without realizing his son didn't actually have super strength. And he did have a big ego, an ego the size of Manhattan, as Warren's father had said many times, not that Barry Battle was one to talk about egos. But Steve Stronghold was basically a good guy. He wasn't in the superhero business for the fame or the glory, although he seemed to like those an awful lot. He was there because he really did want to help people. Anyway, his ego probably wasn't a fatal flaw with his wife around.

Josie Stronghold was one of the more practical people Warren knew. Warren had been more than a little relieved when she had answered the phone and not Steve. He would have had to spell out for Steve just how endangering it could be to a secret identity to have medical personnel read your temperature at over 200 and still be hypothermic. Josie had known instantly what the problem was. Josie knew there was more to life than being a superhero. There were times, he suspected, that Josie would have rather just been a mom.

So they weren't that aggravating to be around most of the time, and even though they weren't all the sure about Barry Battle's son, sometimes Warren even liked them. Anyway, Warren had known for a long time that is wasn't the Commander and Jetstream's fault his dad would spend the next four lifetimes in jail. Barry Battle, under the guise of Deathfire, had torched twelve international banks, and blown up a secret military base with the intent of selling the weapons technology to the highest bidder. That was pretty much his own fault.

It had just been easier to blame someone he had never met for it. Culpability for Warren being a latch key kid was one of the few things Warren didn't talk to his dad about. He didn't know what to say, and he was afraid of the answer, and it would be so easy to hate his dad for abandoning him, and he didn't want that.

Warren stopped to get the mail he hadn't had a chance to get the day before. There was a letter from Liang and a letter from his dad. He had been expecting both of them, although he couldn't have cared less if they had arrived before or after Christmas.

He left the letters on the coffee table and went to take a shower and change into his own pajamas. The letters would be there when he got through.

* * *

Steve woke before Josie and went to check on the boys. He pushed open the door quietly and spotted Will sleeping with his head at the wrong end of the bed, which wasn't that unusual. Warren was nowhere to be seen, although the sleeping bag Steve had dug out of the closet for him was neatly rolled and sitting next to the bed. It was hard to imagine Warren being up so early after the night he had had. Steve checked the guest room, the bathroom, and the kitchen, but he wasn't there. Given that he had taken the time to roll the sleeping bag up, he was probably fine and had just gone home. It was still a little unexpected though.

Not that everything about Warren wasn't unexpected.

Steve started the coffee brewing and poked around the fridge for breakfast.

It had been very unexpected to find out his son was best friends with Deathfire's son, unexpected to have him be quiet and withdrawn, and very unexpected that he wasn't a trouble maker at school. Barron Battle had been nothing like that. He had been loud and brash, always the center of attention. His father had been Inferno, an old time super villain who had wiped the floor with some of his generation's strongest superheroes. He had been dead by the time Barry hit high school, but he had still milked his father's infamy for all it was worth.

Steve couldn't see him ever jumping into an icy flooded creek to save anyone.

But unexpectedly, his son had.

Or maybe not so unexpectedly. Maybe Josie and Will were right and he was constantly measuring Warren against his father. He looked at him and saw the dark hair, the dark eyes, the tattooed hands, although the tattoos were different, the disregard for what anyone thought, and the same, well nearly the same, powers, but Warren wasn't his father.

Steve poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Warren didn't go around picking fights, he didn't push people around just because he could, and he had risked his life to save someone he didn't know, and then just wanted everyone to forget he had ever been there afterwards.

Whatever it was Will saw in Warren, he thought it was worth fighting for, and Josie seemed to like him more and more each time she saw him. Maybe it was time to find out just who his son's best friend was.

"Merry Christmas Dad," Will appeared in the kitchen doorway rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Merry Christmas," Steve replied with a grin.

All Will needed was the Cookie Monster slippers he had outgrown years ago to complete the ideal picture of the sleepy little boy.

"Did Warren go home?" Will sat at the table, propping his head on his hand.

"Looks that way," Steve nodded. "Santa came."

It had been years since Will had believed in Santa, but presents still magically appeared under the tree every Christmas morning.

"Is Mom up?" Will asked.

Presents did not get opened until everyone was awake.

"No, but you can go through your stocking," Steve took a sip of his coffee, debating whether to wake Josie or not.

Will got up to go look through his stocking, dreams of chocolate dancing through his head.

"Will," Steve stopped him. "When we're done with the presents why don't you go invite Warren over for dinner."

Will looked startled for a moment, then smiled widely at his dad. "Alright."

* * *

Warren was startled out of sleep by the doorbell. He had fallen asleep on the couch reading his dad's letter. With a yawn he picked the letter up off the floor where he had dropped it and kicked his down comforter off.

He was stiff and feeling a little cranky at being woken, and he hoped whoever was at the door was either not annoying or fireproof.

Will, of course, didn't necessarily fit either of those categories, but that didn't seem to worry him.

"So, you are coming to dinner tonight, right?" Will said in way of greeting.

Warren laughed and stepped back to let him in.

"Yeah, I'm coming to dinner."


End file.
